Tracey's Farewell
by chikorita18
Summary: Prequel added which I know I'm gonna get flamed for...nah, I know you won't read it. Doesn't matter. Summary: Cast aside by his friends and haunted by his past, Tracey turns to the unthinkable as his only solution...
1. Breaking Down

Breaking Down  
Prequel to "Tracey's Farewell"  
  
Disclaimer: Do I LOOK like a billionaire to you? C'mon, let's be realistic here, eh?  
  
Summary: Set closely after "The Rivalry Revival". Tracey has finally achieved his dream of meeting (and working with) Professor Oak, but a simple comment from Ash may destroy that dream for good...  
  
Discretion warning: Contains themes of depression/suicidal feelings/self-harm  
  
A/N: Yep, I'm back with the Tracey thing. Now, you people out there who like Tracey (and you are more rare than Celebi - be proud!) probably think I'm an idiot, 'cause Tracey's never shown any emotion like this. So I'll say this - do you know anyone who is ALWAYS happy? I didn't think so. People who are always happy - like Trace - make me think that they're just hiding something darker....  
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The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the living room wall. But every tick sounded like a nuclear bomb dropping to me. I was sleeping - well, attempting to sleep - on the sofa at Delia Ketchum's house. After a long time in the Orange Islands, me, Ash and Misty had finally reached Pallet Town. We had had a long day, and all of us were grateful for the chance to snooze. Misty was sleeping in Ash's room, which I was told was normal for her (and she's trying to tell me that she don't like him? I'm not stupid) and Brock was crashed out on the floor about five feet away from me. I had been tossing and turning for what seemed to be hours. I just couldn't sleep.  
Tomorrow - well, depending on if it was before midnight - was the day. Tomorrow was the day when Ash and Misty were leaving with Brock for the Johto League. They were psyched for the journey. I didn't really feel that excited. I was a Pokémon Watcher. I had been all through Johto at least twice. Who can resist when you hear that the Legendary Dogs (A/N: Some people say that Entei, Suicune and Raikou are cats, but you can't tell me that Suicune looks like a cat, okay?) have been spotted out there? What self-respecting Pokémon Watcher would turn down the chance to possibly see them? Not me.  
I thought about the way things had gone that day a bit more. After reaching Pallet Town, meeting Professor Oak, trying my best not to freak out as he looked through my portfolio, and getting through another attack by Team Rocket, the professor had come to me with an offer I would be a fool to refuse - to stay and work at his lab with him. So, I accepted.  
Brock mumbled something in his sleep. I looked over in his general direction. His appearance had been unexpected, I knew that much. At least, I thought that much from the way Ash kind of crashed into a wall after running full-tilt into the kitchen to see him standing there. I was still trying to figure out whether it was cool or not that I had finally met him. On one hand, it was cool that I could finally put a face and voice to the name, but on the other, I felt like there was a sense of competition between us. It wasn't a spoken competition, but it was there. We had both been what I suppose you could call the 'third wheel' in the group at some time. I had expected there to be a little bit of a dilemma. But what I hadn't expected is to fade into the background like camouflage. I had to do something stupid and embarrassing just to get attention. That was when I decided to take the professor's offer. I had the sense that I would just be like a stray puppy following a kid home if I was to stay with Ash and Misty. There was no sense in that. I would just be traveling alone, in a sense.  
The clock chimed. I discovered that it was two in the morning by counting the chimes. I sighed. All I could think of was what was to come after tomorrow....  
  
***  
  
"Johto League, here I come!"  
I was faintly aware of Ash's voice upstairs and the subsequent yell of, "Ash, it's only six in the morning!" from Misty. Obviously, the time had no affect on Ash, because I heard him thunder down the stairs a moment later. I poked my head up from the sofa to see that he was still in his pyjamas, he'd just run down to get breakfast. Pikachu had followed him down, but upon seeing that Ash was preoccupied, snuck back to Ash's room, probably to get in a few more winks.  
"Hey, you guys, get up!" Ash yelled.  
I lay back down just in time to avoid a flying pillow that came from Brock's general direction. "Ash, it's six in the morning!" he mumbled, his face buried against the carpet now that he was pillow-less.   
I smirked a bit, but that faded as Ash's face popped into my frame of view from behind the sofa. "Hey, you up, Trace?" he said cheerfully.  
"You don't have to be that cheerful," Brock muttered, sitting up, obviously deciding that sleep wasn't a thing he was going to get any more of. "Geez, Ash, you need some Valium."  
Ash raised an eyebrow. "Huh?" he said.  
Misty appeared downstairs a few minutes later, dressed, but with her hair still down and wet from the shower she'd taken after her rude awakening. She wandered over to the kitchen table and flopped down in a chair.   
I sat up and rubbed the last sleep out of my eyes. I guess I was slightly more accustomed to waking up early. After all, I had been traveling longer than any of them. I wandered into the kitchen. "So, I take it Ash is excited?" I said to a half-asleep Misty.  
Misty didn't move her head from its spot on the table, but mumbled something to acknowledge that she had heard me.   
"It's gonna be so cool out there, right, Trace?" Ash said to me.  
Misty cleared her throat loudly as I felt my heart sink.  
"Oh, yeah," Ash said, biting his lip. "I forgot...you're staying here..."  
"It's okay," I said.   
"I'm sorry, Tracey, I just forgot," Ash said.  
I guess the expression on my face gave me away. "I said it's okay," I replied. I decided that I better get dressed.   
About two hours later, Brock and Misty decided that they were out of excuses to keep Ash in the house, so they decided to 'take off', as Brock put it. Amazing how he could make a journey that could last years just seem like a trip to the next town. Johto was huge. Nothing to be scoffed at. But they'd learn that on their own.   
I was surprised to see Professor Oak approaching when I followed Delia out of the house to bid Ash and Misty farewell. I guess I should have known that he'd come to see Ash off and remind him about the GS Ball.   
I felt a little awkward standing there with the professor and Delia, especially after having traveled so long with Ash and Misty. My Pokémon seemed to share the mentality, since all three were silent.  
After saying our goodbyes, I watched them walk away. I heard the professor and Delia talking, but my attention wasn't really on them. That's when I heard Ash say to Brock, "You know, things just weren't right without you. It was like there was someone missing..."  
That hit me like a slap in the face. Things weren't right? Someone missing? What had I been? Didn't I mean more to them than that? It shouldn't have bothered me that much, but it did. I felt a lump in my throat, but held it back. I was with strangers now, and I had to be more careful about what I said or did.  
Delia turned to me. "Are you all right, Tracey?" she asked.  
Shoot...so much for a career in acting. I nodded.  
"It's okay to be upset, you know," she said. "After all, you're bound to miss traveling with them."  
"Yeah," I said.  
The professor, behind me, clapped me on the shoulder. "Well, Tracey, let's go," he said. "I'll show you around the lab and such."  
All feelings of sadness drained from my mind as I followed. My first day working the job that I had never dreamed I would work...  
  
***  
ONE YEAR LATER....  
  
I forced my eyes to open. The light pouring in through the window made me shut them immediately afterwards. My head was pounding, as if the thoughts that were whirling around in it were too much for my skull to hold in. I dragged myself into a sitting position. I felt so drained, like there were weights tied to my head, dragging it down. I rested my head in my palms for a moment, trying to get my bearings.  
Professor Oak knocked gently on my door. "Tracey, I need you to..." he stopped. "Are you okay?"  
I looked up. "Yeah, I just got a bad headache, that's all, I'll be fine," I replied. It was only partly true.  
"Take your time," he said. "Don't rush yourself. Believe me, you'll have a migraine before lunch if you do."  
*Too late,* I was thinking. The pain in my head was enough to make me wince with every pound. And nausea threatened to take over the second I stood up. I wobbled a bit on my feet.  
The professor was at my side in a second. He caught me just before I collapsed. "Tracey, go back to bed," he said. "You're sick."  
I shook my head. If I did, the professor would think that I was just freeloading off of him. I didn't want that. I wanted to make him think that keeping me there was worth it.   
"Yes," he said. "Don't argue with me."  
I looked at him and finally gave in. I crawled back under the sheets. I wasn't physically sick, I knew that much. I was just...lost. I'd been to a doctor, and he had told me that I may be suffering from chronic depression. I'd denied it. There was no way. Not me. I was just having a rough time coping with myself, that was all. I rolled over to face the wall. Tears burned my eyes.  
"Tracey, do you want me to call a doctor?" Professor Oak asked me.  
I shook my head. "No," I said. "I'll be fine."  
"All right," he replied. "Just take it easy, okay? And come down for lunch, huh? You haven't eaten anything for a few days. That's not good."  
I heard the door close and welcomed the opportunity to burst into tears. Why was I feeling this way? Why did I feel so helpless....so hopeless? Why was I waking up with a headache every morning? Could there be something really wrong with me? What would I do if there was?  
I heard the sound of a PokéBall opening and a second one just after that. A few seconds later, I heard Marill's voice in my ear.   
"I'm fine, Marill," I said to her. "I'm just tired."  
I felt her clamber over me and opened my eyes to see her staring at me. I closed my eyes again, too tired to keep them open.  
  
***  
  
I was working on cleaning a couple of shelves when I heard the professor's phone ring. I could tell that he didn't know I was there by the conversation that ensued.  
"Professor, it's us," I heard Ash's voice on the other end.  
"Well, hi there, Ash!" the professor said back.  
"How's it going over there?"   
"Everything's going just fine. How about you?"   
A pause. "Just great!" Ash said proudly. "I won my fifth badge!"  
"Good going, Ash!"   
There was a heavier pause. "Professor, how's Tracey doing?" That came from Misty.  
I heard the professor sigh. "I'm worried about him," he said.  
I frowned and stopped dusting the shelf that I had been dusting since the conversation began.  
"Why?" Misty's voice.  
"He's been very withdrawn lately...it's almost like he isn't here half the time...it's like he's lost in his own little world...not to mention that he's been very sick lately...he almost refuses to eat anything...he gets wiped out a lot, but he won't take time off because he says that I'll think he's freeloading off of me...I think he's gone into a bit of a depression, I'm afraid..."  
"What does that mean?" Misty's voice was shaking a bit.  
"Nothing at the moment," the professor said. "But if I can't convince him to see a doctor, I'm afraid that this thing may get out of my hands..."  
"You mean he might try to hurt himself?" Ash said slowly.  
"There's no telling...but I think it's a possibility. He won't talk to me. I know there's something bothering him, but he just won't tell me when there is...I wish he could trust me more..."  
I sighed and turned to leave. I couldn't ask the professor to sit and listen to my whole sob-story life. That was just too much. He was doing me the favor by letting me work at his lab, I didn't want to have to impose on him by asking him to be a counsellor, too.  
I flung myself on my bed when I reached my room. I buried my face against my pillow. "Just stop it," I moaned to the voices in my head. "Leave me alone!' I didn't want to feel like this. I just wanted to be a normal seventeen-year-old teenager. That was all. I didn't want to have to suffer through this pain every single day. It was getting bad enough that it was preventing me from breathing. I would have to fight to breathe sometimes.   
The knock on the door a few minutes later dragged me kicking and screaming out of my self-pity. "Tracey?" the professor's voice. "Are you all right?"  
I shook my head.   
"Tell me what's wrong, Tracey, please," he said. I heard something in his voice that made me sit up.  
"I don't want to make you listen to me," I said.   
"Tracey, I think it's about time you start to trust me, okay?" he said. "You don't have to tell me a lot, just what's bothering you right now."  
I shook my head.  
"Tracey, please?" he asked. "I hate seeing you like this! You've been here for a year, but I've never seen you like this until recently. There has to be something wrong."  
"I don't want to live anymore." The statement shocked me. I didn't think that I was that far gone, to say that I would rather be dead than here.   
I'd surprised him, too, because he said nothing else for a long time. Finally, he spoke up. "Why do you say that, Tracey?" he said.  
I buried my head in my hands. "I don't know," I said. "I just want it all to end..."  
"You know that we care about what happens to you, don't you, Trace?"   
I nodded.  
"You mean a lot to Delia and I," he said. "And we're always here for you, no matter what."   
I kept my eyes on my hands. Have you ever felt that way? Like no matter what you say, they'll just tell you to knock it off and grow up, unless you threaten to hurt yourself?  
I felt his hand on my shoulder. "I know what this is about," he said suddenly.  
I looked up at him.  
"Back when Ash and Misty left," he said. "You heard Ash say something. I saw you go pale. Am I right?"   
I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "He said that things were never right without Brock around...that he felt like someone had been missing all that time..."  
"And you took it to heart, right?"  
I nodded.  
The professor sighed. "Ash is a good kid, but he can be really dense sometimes. I can see how that would hurt you. But why are you acting like this now?"  
I shrugged. "I don't know," I said. "I can't help it...I try not to think this way...but I can't stop myself from it..."  
"Sometimes, when we think that things aren't going the way we thought they would, we can't help but drag up the past. Is that what's going on?"  
"They haven't even tried to talk to me since they left," I said. "It's like I never existed to them. They probably won't even know who I am when they get back."  
"I don't think it's that bad, Tracey," the professor said. "Misty asked how you were today. She seems really worried."  
I knew that he was telling the truth, since I had been in the room when that conversation had taken place. I wished I knew why she would ask now, after all that time. "Yeah, maybe," I said.   
I heard the professor sigh. "Tracey, I hate to say this to you, but if you keep this up, I'm going to have to call the hospital," he said. "I can't be watching you all day, but I'm not going to leave you alone if you're saying that you want to hurt yourself, okay?"  
I felt that same burning feeling in my eyes again, but I knew that he was right. And, in a way, I wanted to go, too, because that was the only way that I knew I wouldn't do something bad to myself.  
"Tracey?" the professor was making sure I heard him.   
I nodded.   
"Okay," he said. "Just come downstairs and eat something, then you can come back up here and get some rest. I don't think you've been sleeping too well lately, either, have you?"  
I shook my head.   
"Well, then, you need rest." He stood up. "Come on."  
I followed him to the kitchen, managed to force myself to eat a sandwich, and then retreated back to my room. Suddenly, what the doctor had said about depression didn't seem so absurd. It made sense, actually. And that's when I stood up and walked back downstairs to find him cleaning up. "Professor?" I said, surprised at how weak my voice sounded.  
He turned. "Yes, Tracey, what is it?" he said.  
"I...I want to go see a doctor," I said. "I want to get rid of these feelings...I just want help..."  
I thought I saw a smidge of a smile on his face, but I was probably imagining it. "All right," he said. "Let's go."  
  
***  
  
An hour later, I lay in a hospital bed. On the way to the hospital, I had brilliantly fallen down the last few steps of the professor's lab, and twisted my ankle. So now I had a physical reason to be there, not just an emotional reason.   
"Tracey?" Professor Oak said softly.  
"Yeah?" I replied, after determining that I really had heard his voice.  
I felt his hand on mine. "I wish I could just make you feel better, but I can't...I just want you to know that you're like a son to me. This past year...I never imagined that I would feel this way about an assistant of mine, but...you're different, Tracey. There's something about you that makes you special to me. And to see you like this...it tears me apart. I brag about you to everyone I talk to. You have it in you to do great things, Tracey, and I for one am glad that you met Ash and Misty."  
Tears rolled down my face as I accepted his offered embrace. I thought I heard him crying, but I wasn't about to say anything. There was a long silence between us before he spoke again. "Promise me you'll try to trust me more, Tracey," he said. "I can't change your past, but I can help you with your future. Please let me help you."  
I nodded into his shirt.   
"I would give up my entire career if it meant that you would be happy again," he said. "And I mean that with all my heart."  
I broke back into tears, this time knowing that I wouldn't be judged for it.  
  
***  
  
I had gotten one of those shrink people that was just out of university and thought that the only people who had a reason to die were homeless people with terminal diseases. He didn't understand a single word I said. I felt worse and worse with each passing day. And as the emotions got deeper, my body got weaker. I was at the point where I was freeloading off of the professor, because I was too weak to do anything else.  
One day, it went too far. I was sitting in the empty bathtub, my bathrobe on. I didn't even have strength left to turn the faucet handles to turn the water on. So I just sat there. And cried. It seemed like all I ever did was cry. Cry and sleep. A baby stuck in a seventeen year old's body. My entire body felt the way someone's body feels when you're about to be punched or something and you automatically tense up your muscles so you don't get hurt as bad.   
In my hand rested my small pocketknife, the one with just a blade and a pair of mini-scissors. I stared at it for a long time and finally touched it to my wrist, feeling the cold blade and the sharpness of it. I could see the vein that I planned on slicing right through. But there was something holding me back, like a voice in my head. One half of my brain was telling me to hurry up so I'd be dead before anyone came looking for me, the other half of my brain was telling me not to do it, to think about what this would do to everyone else. I could see my hand shaking. I didn't know what to do. My head was spinning like a tornado. Finally, I closed the blade away and started to climb back out of the tub. "What am I doing?" I muttered to myself. "Why am I just sitting here, not trying to get out of this rut?" I sighed, looking at the pocketknife one more time and then throwing it into the trash can. "That's it," I muttered. "No more. I'm not letting this thing beat me."  
  
***  
  
"You're looking better, Tracey," the professor said as I walked into the kitchen for breakfast.  
I nodded. "I really thought about all this last night, and I realized that I'm the one letting it bother me," I said. "And it's time that I tried to not let it bother me." I left out the part of almost killing myself the night before.  
The professor smiled. "That's good, Tracey," he said. "I'm glad."  
"So what do you want me to do today?" I asked, popping a couple slices of bread into the toaster.  
"Well, I've got some work to do on that paper I'm presenting next month," he said. "So I'm going to ask you to go out and make sure all the Pokémon are out of their PokéBalls and fed, that kind of thing - be careful, it's hot out there. Later, I'm going to get you to fax some papers to Professor Ivy. Is that okay with you?"  
I nodded. "Sure," I said. I finished off my breakfast, went upstairs to get dressed, grabbed my PokéBalls so I could let Marill, Venonat, and Scyther out when I got outside.  
The professor hadn't been kidding, it was hot outside. But it was good to see the sun, since I hadn't really left the lab in a while. I sighed, let my Pokémon out, and set about the major task of feeding the Pokémon. When I was done that, I sat at the edge of the pond, where Marill and Venonat were having a Pokémon water fight. Marill always wins, though, and Venonat always complains about it, saying that Marill shouldn't be allowed to use her Water Gun. It's cute to see the two of them arguing over something as trivial as a water fight. But they're still like best friends. I felt tears spring to my eyes as I remembered the night before. What if Marill had found me dead? Or Venonat? That would have destroyed both of them. I know that they adore me, and I adore them. Those two are like my children, we've been through so much. I secretly thanked the side of my brain that had stopped me from killing myself. I knew it wasn't going to be an overnight transition thing, but I was going to try my hardest never to think like that again.  
I headed back inside and began the task of figuring out how to get the fax machine to co-operate long enough to fax the papers to Professor Ivy. While I was doing that, I heard an all-too-familiar voice yell out, "Professor, we're back!" It was Ash. I looked back at the calendar on the wall. "Should have expected that they'd be back," I said to myself and went back to the faxing.  
A little while later, I felt like I was being watched. I turned my head slightly to see who was there, while also keeping my eye on the uncooperative fax machine. I noticed Brock there in the doorway. I couldn't read the expression on his face, but something told me that this encounter wasn't going to end too well....  
  
TO BE CONTINUED.....  
  
A/N: Just when I get him out of that rut, Brock comes in and ruins the whole thing....*Chikorita's Wooper taps her on the shoulder and whispers something in her ear* What's that, Wooper? I made Brock do it? Of course I did! But there was no real villain in this fic. Anyways, I think you all know what happens after this, because chances are you've read the next two parts and are probably sick of me constantly re-writing the thing. Oh, well. The day I stop seeing Tracey-bashing fics, that's the day I stop writing these I'm-trying-to-make-you-feel-sorry-for-Tracey fics. Until then, you're stuck with me! Mwahahahahahaha!   
  



	2. Tracey's POV

Tracey's Farewell  
Re-write  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon. Heck, I don't even own the 3rd movie yet! (Hides face in embarassment) All you people who think that I do own Pokémon - You ARE the weakest link! Goodbye! (Anne Robinson...I'd like to see Brock try to hit on her!)  
  
Summary: Feeling cast away by his friends and with his past starting to haunt him, Tracey's more on edge than he's ever been in his life. And one fight with another member of the group could destroy what little will to live that he has...  
  
A/N: Re-vamped and ready for a whole new set of read! ***************************************************************************************************************************  
POV: Tracey  
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"He'll never make anything of himself, because he's worthless!" I heard my father's voice in my head. "He's just gonna be another yes-man trapped in some low-paying dead-end job. He won't even matter to anyone!"  
"You won't even give him a chance!" my mother's voice cried back. "He's a good boy, but you won't give him a chance to prove it to you!"  
"I don't want anything to do with him!"   
"At least try!"   
"No! I'm telling you, he should have died back then!"  
I bolted up in my bed, my heart and my mind racing. I'd been having the same dream for months now. I was having trouble determining reality from dreamland, it was so bad. But, as I remind myself too many times, it wasn't just a dream. Everything in my dream had happened to a younger me.   
Back when I was about seven, my interest in Pokémon really picked up, about the same time as my interest in drawing did. But that didn't go over too well with my father, who wanted me to be a 'normal' kid and get a job as a lawyer, as he was. Of course, that idea revolted me. My mother was never much help, she just kind of hid away as the battle raged between me and my father. I can't say that he was physically abusive...although there were a few times when he did slap me around. I wanted nothing more than to get out of there, but first I had to survive until I was ten.   
I almost made it through with little incident, but then, when I was nine, a bunch of kids decided that they were gonna beat me up. Take a wild guess why...yep. My name. Personally, I never saw nothing wrong with my name, but apparently, a lot of people do. Anyway, they beat me up pretty good and when I was walking home, I was really disorientated and wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings and I was struck by a car. I can't remember much about it, but I know that my father sacrificed a lot of his retirement money to pay for an operation that saved my life.  
I was so happy to hear that, because I thought that it meant that my father's love had returned and that he was going to start spending time with me and accept the fact that I wanted to be a Pokémon trainer (yeah, back then, I did want to be a trainer). But I was never more wrong in my life. And then I heard that devastating conversation between my parents and decided that it was time that I got out of there. My best friend at the time, a girl named Madison, let me crash at her house until I was old enough to get my trainer's license. Then I left and set out to make a career for myself. Of course, ten years old is still really young, no matter how you look at it. And when you come from the kind of life that I did, you tend to have a low tolerance for violence. So, I changed careers when I was twelve. I don't know how exactly I got into being a Pokémon Watcher, but I know that my passions for both Pokémon and for drawing really helped out. And, somewhere along the way, I developed a bit of an admiration for Professor Samuel Oak - he was the idol of almost every Watcher in the universe.  
I thought that I had beaten life when I met Ash and Misty. I mean, they personally knew Professor Oak! I'll admit it, I did kind of just invite myself along at first, but we grew a lot closer as time went on. I tend to keep my opinions to myself, but I honestly thought that Ash was a bit too impulsive and Misty...well, she was just cranky. But they were good people (and I will hold the fact that they like each other for eternity!) and we became fast friends. Or so you would think.  
When we returned to Pallet Town, I met the 'other buddy' that I felt that I was constantly competing against - Brock. He didn't exactly leave that good of an impression on me, but after all the things I'd been through in my life, I knew better than to judge by first impressions. But I noticed that suddenly, no one even knew that I was in the room anymore. I tried to hide it, but I was hurt. Really hurt. And after I had - finally! - met Professor Oak, I was practically non-existent. Even during yet another attack by Team Rocket and the - I assume - unexpected return of Gary, it was like no one knew that I was there. And somehow, I felt worse about being there. Suddenly, I didn't want to be there.   
I think the professor clued in on it, because after Ash, Misty and Brock had left the room, he took me aside. "You seem like you really know what you're doing," he said. "And I must admit that I am really impressed by your portfolio..." He paused, waiting for me to take in the information.  
"I worked hard at them," I said, half flattered, half unnerved.  
Professor Oak nodded. "And I can tell that you've waited a long time to actually meet me, am I right?"  
I nodded.  
"Well, Tracey, I have a proposition for you. As you can probably tell, I am really busy. I haven't had any help with the lab for a long time...but my age is really beginning to catch up with me. So...I would be glad to let you stay here and work as my assistant."  
I couldn't believe it. "You want me to be your assistant?" I almost squeaked. I gave myself a good mental kick for sounding so unprofessional in front of my role model.  
He just laughed. "Yes, I do," he said. "What do you say?"  
I let a huge grin cross my face. "Of course I will!" I said automatically.  
I broke the news to Ash and Misty at Ash's big going-away dinner. The only real comment was "That's great....I mean, I wish you were coming with us, but..." from Misty. After that, nothing. Until Team Rocket showed up and I saved the day with my Scyther and my Marill. I got a thanks out of Ash for that one, but not much else. The next morning, they left. I stood there with Professor Oak and Delia, Ash's mother, watching my friends walk away, laughing and telling Brock how much they had missed him and how things had just never seemed right without him. The words cut me like my Scyther's blades. Things had never seemed right? What had I been? Sure, I admit I was just going along with them to meet Professor Oak at first, but I had thought that we'd grown closer than that.  
I immediately got the sense that Delia could read my mind. "Tracey...are you all right?" she asked, as if she knew that I was hurt by what I'd just heard.   
I didn't know her that well, and she didn't know me that well, so I just nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said.   
  
***  
  
A year and a half later, just before my eighteenth birthday, Ash came back boasting his Johto League badges. Misty came back to stop him from making an idiot out of himself, and Brock came back to make my life a living nightmare.  
I was at work faxing some documents to Professor Ivy, which I think was the beginning of the whole thing, when he walked in. He peered over my shoulder. "Why on earth would you want to send anything to her?" he said.  
I jumped a little. I hadn't seen him back there. "It's business," I said.  
"Yeah, I guess so," he said. "I guess it is your responsibility to heed the professor's beckon call. It's not like you would ever not come running whenever he called."  
"I work for him," I said. "It's my job."  
"Yeah, whatever," he said. He was really beginning to get on my nerves. "Do you just use that excuse to cover up the fact that you weren't good enough to travel with Ash and Misty?"  
I looked up at him for a second.   
He nodded mockingly. "Yeah," he said. "They told me themselves. They both said that you had absolutely no backbone. They said that they thought it would kill you to ever stand up for yourself. They even said that your Pokémon were nothing compared to mine."  
I couldn't stand up for myself, huh? "I may not have an Onix, but at least I got a career," I snapped, surprising myself. I never snapped at people.  
He rolled his eyes (if that's possible...) "Yeah," he said. "The professor's yes-man, that's all. You're probably gonna be stuck here for the rest of your life."  
I felt like I had just been slapped. That was the exact same thing that my father had used to say about me...that's when it happened. I went nuts. I threw the rest of the papers to the ground and practically flew at that guy, my fists flying. I am never the one to initiate a fight, but I was mad. I was livid. I had been trying to prove my father wrong for close to eight years, and now this...I was completely blind with rage. I had him pinned to the ground when the professor finally ran in and hauled me off of him. "Tracey, stop it!" he cried.  
Brock dragged himself into a sitting position. "What the heck is the matter with you?" he hissed at me.   
"What's going on?" the professor said, directing the question at me.   
"What do you care?!" I nearly screamed at all of them - the professor, Brock, Ash, and Misty. I hated to yell, but I had been pushed way too far. I didn't want to yell, but I just couldn't stop myself. "What do any of you care about me?"  
"Tracey, we care about you..." Misty said.  
Her tone was soft, and I was inclined to believe her, but I stopped myself. "Yeah, you do now, but what about before?! What about when you're out on the road? I don't matter to you at all then, so why are you suddenly so worried about me now?! Because I've gone psycho? 'Cause I've lost it?!"   
"Tracey, calm down, please..." she begged.   
The expression on my face must have been a terrifying one, because she cowered away as soon as I looked at her. "Why would I do that? I'm giving your buddy more ammo against me! There you go, Tracey's gone psycho, he's lost it! Now you can ignore me without feeling guilty, not that it's any different!" I spun and stormed out of the room. I practically threw myself onto my bed and burst into tears. I just couldn't believe what was going on...I couldn't believe that I had said that stuff. My head was spinning out of control. I felt upset, angry, sick and dizzy all at the same time.  
I heard a knock on the door. "Tracey?" the professor said softly. "Are you all right? Can I come in?"  
He sounded worried, but I still hadn't cooled down. "Don't let me stop you," I said, a little harshly.  
I felt him sit down on the bed. "Are you all right?" he said, resting a hand on my shoulder.  
I couldn't look at him. I'd let my bad side out, and he had been full witness to it. He was probably just waiting to fire me or something. "No...I...no..."  
"It's all right," he said. "Just sit up and talk to me. I'm not going to fire you or yell at you or anything, believe me."  
I slowly dragged myself up.  
"Brock's going to be fine," he said. "You didn't do any damage worth talking about."  
I nodded.  
"The one I'm worried about is you," he said. "Whatever could have happened to make you snap like that?"  
I shrugged. "I don't know," I said. "He was just...getting on my nerves...and then he started...saying this stuff that my father used to say...about how I would never make anything of myself...and how I would always be someone's yes-man, nothing more...and I just flipped out..." I started to cry again.  
"It's all right," he said. "We're all entitled to our moments. Brock should have known better than to push it like that. He was asking for it. He just didn't think you'd have the nerve to hit him."  
I lowered my eyes.   
"You've had a rough life, haven't you?" the professor asked me.   
I nodded.   
"Well, I can't change any of that, but I can tell you that I'm not judging you by what you do. I think you're a good person, Tracey, and you're welcome to stay here as long as you want."  
I wanted to believe him, but I couldn't. How could anyone still care about me after what I had done? I just laid back down. I didn't want to talk anymore.  
  
***  
  
Three days had passed since the incident. I still felt like the whole world was about to end on me. I had only left my room once in the past three days, and that was to aquire the one thing that I needed to make everything go away. I had been thinking for so long, trying to talk myself out of this frightening thought, but I had failed. Everyone hated me now, I knew it. I couldn't face anyone anymore. There was only one way out now. I knew that it was probably the worst thing I could do, but I didn't care. There wasn't a bone in my body that cared about anything anymore. I just wanted out. I wanted to stop worrying, stop hurting, stop everything. I knew that my father had been right, after all. I wasn't going anywhere. I would be stuck in the same rut that I'd been in for my whole life for the rest of my life. And now I had gone and turned everyone against me by beating up the 'more popular' one. My life as I knew it was over, so why not just literally end my life? I didn't want to think about how it would affect the professor, or Delia, because they would be devastated...but would anyone else? I didn't think so.   
Finally, I came to a decision. As of tomorrow, my life was going to come to an end. Soon, I would be nothing but a quickly-forgotten memory.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED...  
  
A/N: There's a prequel to this called "Breaking Down". It basically explains how Tracey got into this bad state of mind, but I haven't finished it yet. So expect to see this fic being updated a lot.  
  



	3. Misty's POV

Tracey's Farewell  
Re-write  
Part 2  
  
Disclaimer: Who is one Pokémon short of a full party? (Anne Robinson - my hero!) Besides, it's not like Nintendo really reads this stuff.  
  
Summary: After what is soon to be known as "The Fight", Misty notices that Tracey has become extremely withdrawn. Worried, she goes to talk to him. But something a lot more unexpected happens...  
  
A/N: Now THIS chapter was re-vamped! I don't know if it's sad, 'cause I wrote the thing while listening to "Elevation" by U2 from the Tomb Raider CD...not the kind of music to listen to if you're trying to write a tear-jerker!  
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POV: Misty  
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Brock was sitting in a corner, still cursing about what had happened. Personally, I thought that he was blowing the whole thing way out of proportion. He had asked for it, anyway. I knew that even Tracey, the most even tempered guy on the planet, had a limit and Brock had pushed that envelope way too far. He had deserved everything that he had gotten.   
"Yo, Misty!" Ash's voice cut through my reverie.   
"What?" I said.  
"Are you okay?" He looked worried. "You've been really out of it lately...is this about what happened with Tracey?"  
I nodded. "I'm worried about him," I said.  
"Hey, I'm the one that got beat up, remember?" Brock said.  
I looked at him. "But you were the one that went in there to bug him on purpose. You should have thought about what you were doing before you did it!"  
Ash nodded in agreement. "She's right," he said. "It's your fault."  
"Whatever," Brock muttered.  
"Why are you worried about him?" Ash asked me.   
I shrugged. "He hasn't talked to anyone since it happened...and he's been really withdrawn...I think there's something going on that he doesn't want us to clue into..." I sighed and decided that the best thing to do would be to go talk to him.  
  
***  
  
"I just feel so terrible about this, Tracey," I said. "I knew that we were ignoring you...and I never did anything...I'm just so sorry that it had to go this far."   
Tracey was staring out of the window. He had been really out of it lately and, frankly, I was worried.  
"I would have done the same if Brock had started reciting things that my sisters used to tell me...actually, I would have done worse."  
He looked at me, and I saw nothing but sadness in his eyes. "But no one expected it out of me...and no one's gonna trust me anymore...and I know that you all hate me now."  
"We don't hate you!" I said.   
He sat down on his bed. "Misty...I've never felt this bad in my life...I just want out..."  
I felt my heart sink, praying that he didn't mean what I thought. "Trace...what do you mean?"  
He buried his head in his hands. "I don't want to feel like this anymore...I want it to end...no one would even notice if I'm gone..."  
I tried not to let myself panic. "Are you...do you mean..."  
"There's nothing left for me to believe in...there's no reason for me to live..."  
Panic was rising in my heart. I had never known someone who had ever wanted to kill themselves, and now... "Tracey, you can't mean that..." I said. I sat down beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. He was so tensed up...  
"I do," he said. "I feel like I'm powerless to do anything anymore...I want to die...I just want it to go away..."  
"We'll help you out, Tracey, we're always here for you."  
He was obviously in a lot of emotional pain. "Please...just let me be alone..." he said.  
I nodded and left the room. No sooner had I done that than I realized that I had broken one of the most important rules of dealing with a suicidal person - never leave them alone. I ran back and tried to open his door, but he had locked it. That's when I panicked. I ran downstairs, not even noticing that Ash was locked in an argument with Gary, who had just appeared out of nowhere. I found the professor in the lab, on the phone with Professor Ivy. "Professor, I need to talk to you," I said.  
He looked a bit annoyed at the interruption, but his mood changed when he saw the look on my face. "I'll call you back," he said to Professor Ivy. He hung up and stood to face me. "What is it, Misty?"   
I didn't know how to say it, because I still wasn't sure if I had heard it right. "It's Tracey...I think...I think he's...suicidal...he's talking about wanting to die...and..." I was scared out of my mind.  
I knew that I had scared the professor, but nothing compared to what happened next.   
He was about to ask me if I was sure when something that sounded like a giant firecracker came from the floor above. Even Ash and Gary put their argument on hold, stunned at the loudness of it. My heart sank. I knew that the sound had been a gun, and the person on the receiving end had been Tracey.   
The professor was just as shocked as the rest of us, and he took off running for Tracey's room. We followed. The door was still locked, but we could smell something like gunpowder coming from the room. The professor finally decided that Tracey's life was more important than his property and busted the door in. All of us had to fight back nausea, I'm sure. Tracey was there, lying completely lifeless on the floor.  
The professor turned and ordered Ash to call an ambulance. He kneeled beside Tracey's body and pressed two fingers to his wrist.  
I had my hands clasped against my chest. "Is he..."  
The professor lowered his eyes. "He's gone," he said. I guess he knew that there was no point in trying to revive him. I saw where the bullet wound was, and there was no way that anyone could ever make it after being shot there.  
Ash came running back into the room and stood right beside me. "Is he...he's dead, isn't he?" he said.  
The professor nodded. He looked around for the gun and found it about two feet away. He didn't touch it, and I could tell that he didn't want to.   
Ash had a stunned look on his face as he tried to process this. He had never seen a dead person, never mind the fact that the dead person happened to be one of his best friends. He dropped to his knees beside me.   
I looked at him, just as an excuse to not look at Tracey's body. His eyes locked with mine, and I'll tell you, I have never seen so much pain in his eyes than I did at that moment. We both just kind of collapsed into each other's arms and cried until the paramedics came. They confirmed what the professor had said - Tracey was dead. I refused to look as they enclosed his body in one of those black body bags and carried him off. I just kept my face buried against Ash's shoulder. I could feel him shaking violently. He was taking it hard, as I was. I knew that I was shaking, too.  
It was no more easier at the hospital. We all stood in that room where they keep dying/dead people until the relatives have a chance to come and say goodbye. In this case, we were considered to be his relatives, because no one knew who his parents were. I had always gotten the impression that Tracey was hiding something. What he was hiding, we'd never find out now. But we knew that it had something to do with what had happened to Brock.  
I looked over at Ash. He looked so small, so much like a little boy, even though he was fourteen. He was clinging like a frightened four-year-old to his mother. Delia was whispering to him, but her words had no effect on him. I walked over. I didn't know why, but something was telling me to go over there and hold him close...I sat down and he almost gratefully wrapped his arms around me.   
I looked up at the rest of the group. Professor Oak was sitting nearby, his head in his hands. Gary was standing near the door, obviously having a bit of trouble believing this turn of events. And Brock had left already. I'd seen him burst into tears just before he had run out of the room. None of us had even tried to convince him that this wasn't his fault, and the realization that he'd been the reason for someone's suicide was just too much for the guy.  
Finally, the hospital people asked us to leave. We did, reluctantly. Maybe we believed that he could come back to life if we all stayed there with him. Outside, Ash was still in hysterics. I think that he might have been scared, not just sad. He refused to let go of my hand, but I didn't mind.  
  
***  
  
I heard Ash in the bathroom. He sounded like he was throwing up. Things were happening way too fast for any of us, but Ash was affected more than the rest of us. I still don't know why, that was just the way things were happening.  
I looked up from my book - which I hadn't been paying attention to for the last eight chapters - to see him stumble back into the room. He was paler than I had ever seen him, and he was having trouble even walking. I jumped up to help him into bed. He sank into his sheets and he was asleep within seconds. I sat beside him, my eyes welling up at the sight of his pained expression. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead before walking out of the room. I headed downstairs, where Delia was talking to Brock, trying to make him stop blaming himself. She stopped and turned to face me as I came into the room. "Is Ash okay?" she asked.  
I shook my head. "He's really upset over this," I said. "He's sleeping now, though."  
"That's good," Delia said. "He needs some rest."  
I looked over at Brock. "Are you all right?" I asked, trying not to let bitterness show through. No matter how nice I had to be, I was still mad at him, and I did blame him at least partly for Tracey's death.  
Brock shook his head, not even looking at me. He kept his eyes focused on the floor.   
I sighed and walked back up to Ash's room. I was still more worried about Ash than I was about Brock. I stood at the foot of his bed and sighed. Ash seemed to be lost in the depths of a terrifying nightmare. I walked over and gently shook him. "Ash, wake up," I said softly.   
Ash's eyes flew open. "Was all that just a dream?" he said. "Please tell me that Trace isn't dead..."  
I bit my lip. "He is," I said.   
Ash sat up, holding his head in his hands. "Why did this have to happen?" he moaned in a voice that immediately made me wrap my arms around him.   
"He was feeling pretty bad," I said, trying to offer some reasons to myself as well as to him.  
"But why didn't he come to us?" he said, his voice muffled by my shirt. "Why didn't he talk to us about it?" He looked up at me, eyes wild with something I couldn't recognize. "Is it because he thought that we didn't care about him?"  
I lowered my eyes. I haven't tried to lie to Ash for a few years, and I wasn't about to start now, even though the truth would tear him apart. "Yes," I said softly. "I think so."  
Ash burst back into tears.   
I just held him close. I think he needed to feel that someone cared about him, and I know that I did, too. I would just have to stay really close when it came time for the funeral.  
  
***  
  
I hate dressing up, everyone knows that. I've told everyone that I'm more likely to get married in jeans and a T-shirt than a dress. Ash hates dressing up, too. But the day of Tracey's funeral, we were both in our least favorite articles of clothing - Ash in a suit that his mother had bought a long time ago and ironically still fit, me in a long black dress - ironically, the same one I had worn to my mother's funeral.  
Ash came out of the bathroom. I couldn't read the expression in his eyes, but I knew that somewhere in there was devastation. I knew that it was how I felt. The night before, I had had a dream where I had seen Tracey again - I asked him why he did it, but he wouldn't reply. The dream lasted for a few minutes, but the implications were still smacking me.   
"It's not an open casket, is it?" Ash asked me slowly.   
I tightened my jaw and gulped back a wave of emotion. I shook my head. "No," I said. "But they want us to go to the funeral home first...and it'll be open there..."  
Tears sprung to his eyes. "I don't want to see him dead, Misty," he said tearfully.  
"I know," I replied. "But it's just so we can say one last goodbye." I looked down at the picture I held in my hand. It was one of me and Tracey, alone. Brock hadn't been there 'cause it was taken in the Orange Islands, and Ash wasn't there because he'd been holding the camera. I smiled softly. In the photo, we were sitting on Lapras' back against a backdrop of ocean and fluffy white clouds. In one of my rarer moments, my hair was down, and in one of his rarer moments, he wasn't wearing his headband. He looked so happy, with his arms around my neck - and that was when it really hit me. One of my best friends was dead. Gone. Forever. I would never see him like that again. I would never hear him laugh again. He had always had a cute laugh. I'd never see him smile...that smile...the one that some girls told me could make them melt. I'd never be able to comfort him again - but I wasn't going to miss that devastated expression on his face as we had that doomed conversation... Tracey no longer existed. All there was to testify to his life was his body, which would be buried, lost to all but memory today. Tears began to roll down my face. I hadn't seriously cried since the day Tracey died, but now I was hit with an incredible wave of grief that was enough to send me right to the floor. I dropped to my knees, sobbing helplessly. I couldn't do anything but cry.  
"Misty?" Ash said, kneeling beside me. "Misty, are you okay?"  
I shook my head. "I miss him so much already..." I sobbed.   
Ash didn't try to comfort me, because he was feeling the exact same way, but once again, I felt his arms around me and I melted into his arms.   
  
***  
  
The man who met us at the door of the funeral home looked like someone from the Twilight Zone. It's amazing how they refer to dead people as if they're still alive. I could have put my fist through the guy's mouth if the dead person had been anyone but Tracey.   
I followed Delia into the room. She and the professor had basically planned out the entire funeral, including the casket and what clothes they would put on Tracey's body for this last meeting. I choose not to think about how they do that. They had decided just to leave him in the clothes he was most comfortable in - his infamous green T-shirt/red shorts combo. His casket was a basic one.  
I shut my eyes as soon as they rested on Tracey's body. *No!* my head screamed. *I'm NOT looking at him like that! That's NOT how he's supposed to look, and I'm not looking at him when he's like that!* But I forced them back open. I was willing to admit one thing and one thing only - he finally looked like he was at peace. He had never looked that calm in the time I'd known him. He had always been worried about his work, or his Pokémon, or meeting the professor, or making the professor happy. And towards the end, he had just been....sad. There was no other way to put it. Sad. When you looked into his eyes, you could see him slipping away. You saw an expression in his eyes that should never be in a human being's eyes. Like he was emotionally dead, just waiting for an excuse to end his physical life. But now, lying amongst all that white padding stuff, he looked peaceful.  
I heard Ash burst into tears behind me, and I turned to see Delia trying to keep him from running out of the room. She failed, and he bolted.   
Brock sat in a chair in the corner of the room and buried his head in his hands. The professor took a seat not too far away and did the same. I turned to Delia. "I'm going to look for Ash," I said.  
Delia nodded slowly.  
I walked down a few halls before I heard his sobs coming from the washroom. I sighed and walked in, despite me being a girl. I saw him half-lying on the floor. He was freaking out, losing it. Some people do that when a friend or loved one dies, they just lose all grip on reality. And that was what was happening to Ash. I kneeled beside him. "Ash?" I said.   
He raised his eyes. "Misty, what's wrong with me?" he said.  
"You're just upset," I said. "You'll be fine in a few days."  
"I don't want to be okay in a few days," he said. "I don't want to feel like this anymore..."  
I remembered those words coming from Tracey the day he had died, and I suddenly grabbed Ash by the shoulders. "Don't talk like that!" I almost snapped. "I had to listen to Tracey say that, and he's dead now! I'm not letting you think that way!"  
I had scared him. Great. Just what I wanted to do.  
"Ash, I'm sorry...I just...I hate to think that I'm going to lose any of you at all...I've had nightmares all week about losing you and Brock just like I lost Tracey...I don't want those to come true."  
Ash looked at me. "They won't," he said softly.   
"Good," I said. I pulled him to his feet and helped him back to the room. He was so weak...  
An hour later, they came in to put Tracey's casket into the hearse for the drive to the cemetary. I felt like someone puched me in the stomach as I saw them shut that heavy lid. I was tempted to cry out, tell them not to close it on him, that he would be scared, but my logical side took over, reminding me that his body was just that - his body. Nothing more.  
Ash sat inbetween us, his head resting on my shoulder. "Can I see that picture?" he asked quietly.  
I handed the picture I'd been looking at before to him. He forced a small smile. "I still remember when we took this picture...I was bugging him about it for days...saying that he must like you, otherwise he wouldn't have had his arms around you like that..." He closed his eyes. "I would give up my entire training career to see him alive again."  
"So would I," I said.  
Brock looked at the two of us. "I would give anything he wanted for a chance to apologize," he said. "I'm the one that killed him."  
"No," I said. "He killed himself."  
Brock looked forward at the hearse in front of us. "I may not have held that gun, but if I hadn't pushed him so far, he wouldn't have done it."  
I sighed, knowing he was right.  
I paid virtually no attention until they brought out the small speakers and played the song that Tracey had always seemed to like - "Don't Laugh At Me" by Mark Wills. He had liked it because he said that he had always been made fun of when he was little, and the song stood up for every kid like him. Then, the priest or whatever said some more stuff that I didn't want to listen to, and the funeral came to an end. Delia and the professor walked back to the car, the professor's arms around Delia's shoulders. Ash said a quick goodbye and promised to take care of Venonat and Scyther. I said my goodbye and promised to take care of Marill. We began to walk away, but stopped when we heard Brock talking.  
"I wish I knew why I said those things," he said to the polished wood of the casket. "But what's done is done...I guess all I can hope is that you can hear me, wherever you are now...and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for every solitary thing I said to upset you, Tracey. I was jealous...you meant so much to them...and I wanted that for myself...I was selfish...but I'm sorry. Take care of yourself."  
I smiled at him as he joined us. Things had their own way of resolving themselves, and unfortunately, this had been Tracey's solution. All I could hope is that none of my friends would ever turn to the same as a solution. Suicide may seem like a best friend at times, but in reality, it's your worst enemy. Suicide will not only take your life, but it will change the lives of those around you forever. Now all we could do is try to go on without Tracey there. And it was going to be a long road.  
  
THE END (Maybe)  
  
A/N: Umm....the only thing I'll be accepting for this fic are good reviews and boxes of tissues. I got a few tear-jerkers in the works. After all, that is my specialty, you know. Sad or depressing.   
  



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